


Remembrance

by AnonymousAutumn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Before Lucifer's Fall (Supernatural), Fluff and Angst, Gen, Like very briefly - Freeform, Michael (Supernatural) in Lucifer's Cage, but no it's meant to be gen, but only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 02:05:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17540588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousAutumn/pseuds/AnonymousAutumn
Summary: In the Cage, Michael remembered.





	Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! Here we go.

Michael remembered being alone.

Of course, he was not _always_ alone; there was Dad who created and raised him and taught him all he knew about the world. And Dad created the world, so of course Michael knew a lot, even as a fledgling.

“Michael, my little archangel,” Dad would fondly say to him, “you are the first, and will be known as the Sword of Heaven.”

The archangel tilted his head, his wings raised just a little, not really understanding the words. _Sword of Heaven? What is even a sword, Dad? And what is Heaven?_ But Dad smiled whenever he asked, that mysterious smile Michael had always pouted at. 

“You don’t understand, my child, not yet,” He’d answer gently, petting Michael on the head.

But Dad wasn’t always around. Michael understood, really. Dad was busy. Being The Creator was, after all, not an easy task. Especially not with Auntie Amara around the corner, poking and disturbing Dad’s work. Auntie didn’t really like him, but that’s okay. Michael didn’t like her either. And they don’t talk about the leviathans in Purgatory. 

Easy to say, not much stopped the sole archangel from feeling just a little lonely… not that he understood it at the time--the small, nagging feeling...

 

....

 

Michael remembered the day Dad put Lu -- _Heylel_ in his arms.

Dad was carrying something in his arms, the archangel noticed. Something bright… with wings. _Like me_ , he realized, and he flew to Dad’s side in an instant, eager to see this new creation. What was it? It was clearly not a galaxy or even a planet. Those were bigger than this, not to mention those stars don’t have wings.

He noticed his Dad aim a smile at both the mysterious thing and him, and Michael smiled back, but his eyes were focused on the moving bundle of pinkish-white feathers. 

“What is that, Dad?” Michael asked, eyes big in wonderment, peering impatiently at the wriggling bundle in childish curiosity.

His Father laughed softly and handed the small creature to Michael, who raised his arms on cue to hold the being that… that looked like Michael. There were differences, like the size, obviously, or the blond locks of hair, but in general, they looked… similar.

“This is Heylel, your little brother,” the archangel heard his Father say, “the second archangel, the brightest of all-- the Morningstar.”

The smaller archangel cooed at Michael who smiled back warmly, immediately attached to Heylel. The name fitted him, Michael decided, looking at the six bright wings with all the color of a galaxy and the bright blue eyes of his little brother. _His little brother_ , he thought, his own grey-white wings fluttering in happiness as he realized the words.

He has a little brother now. He wasn’t alone anymore!

Heylel giggled as if he sensed Michael’s joy, and the older kissed and nuzzled his beloved little brother in affection.

 

.....

 

Michael remembered how much of a problem child Heylel was.

The younger archangel was energetic, to say the least, and was incredibly smart and charming. The brightest, indeed. The older adored him oh _so much,_ even when the devious little archangel tricked and tempted him to do things he really shouldn’t have done, such as creating a few craters and holes in Earth’s moon, and the storms in Jupiter.

Fortunately, Father didn’t seem to mind much. He just smiled and told them to be careful, usually, and went back to creating. He seemed to be focusing on Earth, now, and Auntie Amara hadn’t been poking around. Perhaps that was why Father was so busy; so Auntie did not have a chance to destroy _this_ one. 

Despite the work, Michael knew that Father loved Heylel and him. Maybe Heylel more than him, but Michael didn’t mind. The Morningstar was precious, and Michael loved him more than anything. 

After all, Michael did raise Heylel nearly all by himself. His beloved little brother.

 

.....

 

Michael remembered the first time Heylel was jealous of something, or rather, someone. 

That day, he was playing with Heylel, flying around Earth, marveling at the stars above the still unformed atmosphere, when Michael heard Father call for them.

The oldest arrived first, landing close to his Father, and Heylel followed, landing just behind Michael with a flap.

Father was holding a bundle of feathers, similar to both Michael and Heylel in terms of _having wings_. Except this time the feathers were dark, a gradient of the color of Earth’s ground.

“His name is Raphael,” Father said, and again, Michael raised his arms to hold the small archangel that Father gently handed to him, “he is the third of archangels, and will be known as the Healer.”

_Healer_ sounded good, Michael decided, as he knew how easy Heylel finds trouble. He looked down to the calm fledgling in his arms and smiled as Raphael’s dark eyes blinked at him in curiosity.

Michael didn’t miss the way Heylel’s jaw clenched and how the bright wings were pulled tight to his back, and the way Heylel glared at the fledgling in Michael’s arms. 

He didn’t think much about it. Perhaps Heylel did not want a little brother, but Michael was sure that his favorite brother will learn to love their newest sibling. 

After all, Father gave Raphael for them both to raise, to love, just as Father loves them.

However, it was clear how Heylel felt about Raphael even just a little time after. 

The Morningstar would frown when Michael asked him to watch Raphael, and hiss when Michael took their little brother to play.

It didn’t matter, Michael thought, because Heylel was and would always be his favorite. He just had to convince him about it.

 

......

 

Michael remembered the first time _he_ felt a twinge of jealousy.

Then, Father was holding another bundle of feathers and this time it was golden, darker at the roots and lighter at the tips, shuffling around in Father’s arms.

“He is Gabriel,” Father said calmly the bundle was handed over, but this time to _Heylel’s_ arms, “the fourth and last archangel, the Messenger.”

And Michael watched as Heylel’s face lit up when the small fledgling touched his face and cooed, and Heylel was giving Gabriel the same smile he normally reserved for Michael and no one else, and that was when he realized how Heylel must have felt when Raphael came to be.

It was not a pleasant feeling, Michael concluded, making the faintest of frowns.

He knew, from the corner of his eyes, that Raphael was looking at him strangely, but Michael was so focused on the scene in front of his eyes to even care.

 

.....

 

Michael remembered his little brothers’ antics.

There were still only the four of them: Michael, Heylel, Raphael, and Gabriel.

Heylel was _still_ Michael’s favorite (secretly, because he was not supposed to have favorites). He was grown up, now, just like Michael, but he still had his old characteristics. Still the active, overconfident, rebellious, annoying, stubborn, clever, _bright_ archangel. However, Heylel was a little more grounded and responsible now after Gabriel’s creation. Michael and he were still the closest, but now they have more responsibilities than that; namely, training and taking care of their younger brothers. 

Michael loved to spar with him and to talk to him, enjoying the brotherly arguments that happened every so often. It was never too serious, just some teasing and discussing and agreeing on having different opinions and views on things.

Raphael was a quiet archangel. The eldest was relieved to take care of him, as the Healer was very much different from Heylel. He was quiet and obedient, book-smart and attentive, and it was frankly easy to raise him. Raphael was not so good in the art of self-defense, but his Healer title more than made it up for him, in the end. After all, who else had the knowledge to heal everyone after the mock-fights Michael had with Heylel? 

They often talked in the medical wing, as Raphael called it. “These fights will get one of you killed someday,” the dark-winged Healer joked as he wrapped Michael’s injured leg. “Well, except if Gabriel beats you to it. He always seems to manage to do _something_ to himself, one way or another.” and Michael laughed.

And their youngest sibling Gabriel, as insinuated, was a _handful._ Raphael and Michael said so, and the oldest was immensely grateful that Heylel was the one to raise him. Gabriel was mischievous, to say the least, and as he held the title of Messenger, he was _fast._ Easily the fastest between all of them, which gave Gabriel the advantage and gift of _running away._

“GABBY!!” Michael often heard Heylel scream and flew past him, following the quick golden blur who had, undoubtedly, done something. Again. The eldest shook his head, chuckling as Heylel landed beside him to take a small break. “Mike, you know what?” he’d say, panting, “I regret everything I have ever taught him. Every. Single. _Trick_. The little rascal.” But he never did feel too much regret, as Heylel always smiled as he said it, usually followed by a rant of what Gabriel had done.

Unlike Heylel, Michael himself was never too close to the youngest archangel, but he knew for a fact that Gabriel _loved_ using the eldest as a target. “All work and no play makes Mikha a dull archangel!” The Messenger would yell in various emotions, ranging from playful to annoyed and put off when Michael had to punish Gabriel after the hard work of catching him.

It was peaceful.

 

......

 

Michael remembered the time when Aunt Amara decided to show up to Father’s newly-created solar system.

“This time, she will _not_ destroy Earth, nor will she touch my sons,” Father said in the big room that Heylel called the _throne room._ “...Michael, Heylel, Raphael, Gabriel… this time we will fight back and lock her up.”

The eldest remembered being surprised and concerned. Not for him or Heylel, but for Raphael and Gabriel. Michael had, at this point, understood his title, which meant he was supposed to fight and protect, and he knew he was _good_ at it. Heylel was also proficient in fighting, as proven by their physical training. However, Raphael was a _healer_ , not a fighter, which showed in his training, and Gabriel was still far too young to be included in a fight.

One look at Heylel had him knowing they were both thinking the same thing.

But Michael was the oldest. He has to give a proper example for his little brothers… and he simply nodded without a word. After all, Father must have planned something that would not harm them, right?

Heylel, however, didn’t agree on that and had--while not immediately--questioned their Father.

It was a shock to Michael, how his oh-so-bright little brother so boldly and openly questioned Father. He froze, fearing Father’s wrath… but as it turned out, he need not worry. After all, it was no secret to the oldest archangel that Heylel was Father’s favorite, and Father’s forgiveness was endless. 

In the end, Father’s word goes, but not without Heylel storming out the meeting room in fury and Father sighing in exasperation and Michael sighing and muttering about having faith under his breath in frustration.

 

.....

 

Michael remembered how _vicious_ the fight with The Darkness went.

It was primarily fear that he remembered when he first entered the battlefield knowing that his target--his _target_ , not his family, Auntie Amara is _not family,_ it _doesn’t matter_ that Father and Auntie are _siblings_ \--will not even _hesitate_ to heavily injure and even kill his little brothers and him.

The archangel was fighting her with everything he could do, trying to keep her off his little brothers, especially Heylel; he was so bright that it was obvious Aunt-no, _the Darkness_ would try and corrupt the Morningstar, and he was _not_ going to let her touch him. Not him, not Raphael, and not Gabriel.

After the long, ruthless fight, when Michael assessed the injuries -- a lot, there was a lot, and Michael remembered his broken bones, Gabriel’s bruised wings and wounded face and chest pouring grace, and especially Heylel’s broken, white wings tainted red by his grace and cracking halo, that was how bad Aun- _the Darkness_ wished to get him--and have Father and Raphael heal them all, Michael could see the anger still in Heylel’s eyes, silently disapproving of Father’s decision to let Raphael and Gabriel fight, and Michael looked at Heylel in warning.

 

.....

 

Michael remembered the moment after the fight when Father was sealing the Darkness away.

On that note, it’s just the Darkness to him, now, and he never again wanted to think about Auntie Amara. There was no Auntie Amara. Only an enemy, and certainly never was a family.

Father had decided to put the Seal of Darkness on Heylel.

It made sense, Michael thought because Heylel was the brightest of them all. The brightest, _purest_ ; the Morning Star. What could happen? Gabriel, of course, did not agree with Michael --sometimes the oldest felt that the Messenger was too much alike with Heylel; even bolder, maybe, and still so young and naïve-- and believed that he should be the one to bear it. The Warrior scoffed at the thought. Gabriel would be corrupted if he were the one to bear it. Michael firmly believed Heylel would _never_ be corrupted. 

_Now that he reflects on this, this is his first mistake._

 

......

 

Michael remembered that sometime after the Mark’s creation, Heylel refused to be called by his name.

“Lucifer,” the second archangel would grumble, his biggest wings raising up by a fraction, “call me Lucifer.”

Gabriel was confused, but being the Messenger, he still called the Morningstar by his original name. After all, that was what was written on the letters. However, he did call Heylel _Lucifer_ sometimes, and switching back and forth. Michael never quite understood why, but he figured it was their closeness that made Gabriel humor their brother. 

Raphael questioned their brother heavily and stubbornly. “Father gave you a name,” the Healer would insist to Heylel ( _Lucifer?_ ), “why would you even wish to change it?” and so Raphael refused to call Heylel as the latter wished to be called.

Of course, Michael too wondered about it, but asking about it only made Heylel-- _Lucifer_ \--frown at him or sometimes even sulk. It was confusing, but Michael shrugged it off. After all, _Heylel_ and _Lucifer_ meant the same: the morning star. Light bringer. It did not matter much.

That being said, the oldest still called him by his original moniker, just as Father did.

Only occasionally, when Heylel was being completely and totally insufferable, _then_ Michael would call him _Lucifer._

It just occurred to him now that this… this was the start of Lucifer’s rebellion. Subtle but also clear, and no one had realized until it was too late.

 

......

 

Michael remembered the first Heylel started to argue out loud.

“You can not say that,” The oldest reprimanded, “Father created them with a purpose--”

“And you completely believe Father?” Heylel countered, “You do not question Him, not even once? Look, Michael. When Father created the carnivores, would they not eat the herbivores, and herbivores the plants? This is a cycle of _murder_ , Michael.”

“And it goes in cycles,” Michael sighed. “Too many would lead to overpopulation, and I believe you understand why it is not a good thing. Heylel, is this… is this about the creation of the other angels? If so, will you… just accept the world as it is? Do not envy; obey and believe in Father, Heylel?”

Heylel frowned, and Michael wished for him to _stop_. If he just-- “Lucifer.”

Michael looked up. “Do forgive me, what did you say?”

“Call me Lucifer,” Heylel growled out, and Michael was too exhausted, too irritated by him to do anything else but hiss in mild anger.

“If you say so, _Lucifer_ ,” the oldest spat out.

_This was his second mistake, he now knew, remembering how those eyes blazed red in anger afterwards._

 

.....

 

Michael remembered the first time they drew blood and grace.

Heylel had become more and more insufferable, and Michael was tired. Constantly exhausted, having to watch his three little brothers… and much, _much_ more, now that Father had, by now, created more angels. Unlike the eldest four, however, Michael noticed that they did not have nearly as much power as the _arch_ angels have. 

And Heylel-- _Lucifer_ , Michael had started to call him as he grew colder and more troublesome than ever--had once again destroyed yet another part of Creation. Small, but it was not his to disturb, it was their Father’s creation, and Michael was beyond irritated.

“I will fight you if you try anything else,” Michael gave an empty threat. Heylel would understand, _please_ understand… and was shocked when Heylel… no, Lucifer looked at him coldly in return.

“Then do it,” Lucifer challenged seriously, pulling his blade out and immediately charged.

What could Michael do but defend himself the only way he knew?

Michael fought back.

_That was his third mistake_ , and he realized it the first time his blade cuts through Lucifer’s skin as he tried to subdue his Morningstar. He tried, he tried so hard not to hurt him, but…but it had to be done.

Or had it…? Michael wasn’t sure anymore.

 

.....

 

Michael remembered the first time Gabriel came to him crying.

To his memories--and his memories _never_ serve him wrong--the cheerful little Messenger had never cried in front of him before, and Michael remembered being confused and concerned. 

“Gabriel?” He asked, tilting his head in confusion and concern, wanting to reach out and ruffle Gabriel’s hair… but he was never too close to him. Michael was closer to Raphael, similar to how Lucifer was with Gabriel. “What is wrong, little one?”

“Ple-please stop,” the Messenger sobbed out, which confused Michael. Stop what? What is Gabriel asking of him? 

“Gabriel,” Michael sighed in his frustration of not knowing what to do, not knowing how to console his little brother. “What is it? Stop what?”

The golden-winged archangel hissed in clear anger and frustration and a multitude of emotions, tears rolling down from his eyes. “Stop fighting!” he whined before letting out wrecked sobs that broke Michael’s heart. 

Then he realized what he meant: the fights with Lucifer. Michael pulled Gabriel closer to him, deciding to hug the Messenger loosely. He could feel Gabriel’s hand rising to grip on his tunic and he could feel the spreading wetness of tears from where Gabriel pressed his face on Michael’s chest.

“...I need to maintain order, Gabriel,” Michael whispered sadly, ruffling his little brother’s hair in sympathy and pain. “Forgive me, please?”

Gabriel looked up pleadingly at him, golden eyes shining with tears, and between the sobs, told him, “Please, _please_ try, Mike…?” he said, sniffing, “Please… I don’t-- don’t want to see you fight anymore… I love you both… Don’t wan’-- don’t wanna choose...”

His heart broke hearing the words, and what choice did he have but to nod and say, “I promise,” to the little archangel?

_Liar_ , his mind whispered, _liar, liar, liar._

 

….

 

In retrospect, he should have known. He should’ve, Heyl--no, _Lucifer_ was persuasive, smart, oh so clever and he should’ve known, should’ve realized the rebellion he was planning, hundreds of angels on Lucifer’s side…

That day, grace and blood was shed, feathers were torn, and tears were shed as Michael had to-- yes, he _had to_ \-- lead an army. Heaven’s Civil War, who would have believed? 

And he should have known that he’d won and Lucifer….

...The Morningstar would fall…

And Michael would have to place ( _to trap_ ) his precious little brother in a room ( _It’s a cage, a jail, how could it contain Lucifer, his wings, he wouldn’t even be able to fly, what am I doing, why am I doing this_ ) in Hell.

So far away from Heaven, from _Michael,_ and if he did it, he could no longer talk with him, spar, argue, and Michael would be the cause of all his suffering, and… and….

….and Father commanded it.

_And Father commanded it._

So Michael raised his sword.

 

….

 

He didn’t remember any sense of accomplishment after it was done. No, he felt… cold. Sad. Anguish. Lonely. _Guilt._ His own brother, his first brother, his little Heylel, his little Morningstar, the one he raised himself and he… he...

So Michael tried turning to Raphael but soon found out that no, he couldn’t. The Healer, after the Fall, was not only quiet, but he had turned cold and calculating, and Michael’s heart broke even further when he realized that Raphael no longer trusted him as an older brother. No, the third archangel now sees him only as the Sword of Heaven, the General of Heaven’s forces… 

And in desperation for company-- the lesser angels all fear him, for some reason, they did not see him as a family member but, like Raphael does, as a commander… until now, still-- Michael looked for Gabriel, despite them not being close. 

Gabriel had left.

Missing, he heard, and no one could find him. Possibly dead. 

And so was Father, he found out soon after. Nowhere to be found.

For the first time in his long, long time of existence, he questioned. He questioned if it was, in fact, a test of faith, or… what? What was it? Did he fail? ...failed his family…

He looked around at the stoic faces of passing angels and wonder. Did he even have a family? Was that even a family anymore...?

 

….

 

Father was gone, Michael knew, but there were still the prophets… from whom he found out about the big plan. Or, as humans call it, the Apocalypse.

Kill Lucifer.

He was supposed to… _kill_ Lucifer.

Was imprisonment not enough? Michael whimpered the first time he realized, pacing in his corner of Heaven. No, not _his_ , he used to share it with Heyl-- _Lucifer_ , a place to ‘get away’ from the others, to talk just between the two of them… a place he had hoped to once again share with his little brother after he had finished his punishment, but now…

Now…

The eldest archangel looked around in despair before fixating his gaze at the miniature apple tree in the middle of the place, planted by Heylel (or was it Lucifer at this point?) and Michael, inspired by _The Tree_ (as they called it). 

Guilt enveloped him, so much that it started to choke him and tears started streaming out of his eyes as he stood there, he couldn’t kill Lucifer, he _couldn’t_ , he…

But if this is truly what The Creator wanted of him, if it was truly…

_It is fine, it will be fine_ , a voice in him whispered, _it is a test. Father is forgiving. Always._

 

…

 

Then Lucifer broke out of the Cage.

 

….

 

Michael didn’t want to deal with Dean Winchester.

The human was unimportant, in all honesty. He was clearly a stubborn man; even Zachariah’s persuasion said so. He would not say no. At first, he thought, perhaps, _perhaps_ this was what the chance was. No Winchester would say yes. 

“You know, my brother…” Michael paused. “I practically raised him. I took care of him in a way most people couldn’t understand, and I still love him.” He turned, looking at Dean. “But I am going to kill him because it is right and I have to.”

“What, because God says so?”

“Yes.” And there was no hesitation in Michael’s voice. “From the beginning he knew how this was going to end!” _Except if he repents. Lucifer…_

“And you’re just gonna do whatever God says?”

“Yes, because I’m a good son.” Michael’s voice was soft, but his eyes were cold. He was a good son. _He was._ Always have faith in Father, do what Father told him to… He just wished it was enough.

 

…

 

The day Samuel Winchester said yes, Michael found himself sitting in front of the miniature apple tree.

One second, Michael was crying and the next, he wiped his eyes and walked out of the room, his blade in hand, and the apple tree was dead.

 

….

 

And

They 

All

Fall

Down

.   
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed that!!! Special thanks to my muse Ash and my beta Caitie!! And thanks for reading!


End file.
